


to find home in the neglected pages

by OceanMyth



Series: Ocean's ATLA Drabbles, Oneshots, and Ficlets [38]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang & Katara are also here, Background Relationships, Introspection, M/M, One Shot, be careful when messing with spirits, not really angst, not really fluff, so uh this is a thing now, structure is wack, there is no owl-fucking here, this walks a weird line between pre-relationship and purely platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanMyth/pseuds/OceanMyth
Summary: Sokka doesn't leave the Library.Not entirely.
Relationships: Wan Shi Tong & Sokka, Wan Shi Tong/Sokka
Series: Ocean's ATLA Drabbles, Oneshots, and Ficlets [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113209
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	to find home in the neglected pages

The first dream goes something like this: it is dark, and there is a low grinding voice, and Sokka is afraid. It’s not an all-consuming fear, but one that sits against his spine and tells him to be wary. Then he notices where he is, and the fear begins to make sense.

Arcing curves of stone surround the platform he’s standing on, the buttresses carved to resemble owls. There is a musty smell of feathers and old parchment, and an edge of something acrid and electric, dangerous, fierce and wild. A smell that Sokka had associated with Aang and the Avatar State until now.

The sound of wings fills the air, and Sokka dives towards a pillar. He’s dreaming, he  _ knows _ he’s dreaming, though that doesn’t mean that this couldn’t be dangerous. Who knows what freaky things the spirit could be capable of?

He sprints forwards into the maze of bookshelves, frantically looking for something— anything— that could help him if he had to fight the owl again. Last time they’d only escaped by the skin of their teeth, but this time he has the advantage of training, and no Aang and Katara to worry about.

Somewhere in the darkness ahead, there is a glint of metal. When he gets close enough, he can make out its shape— it’s a sword, like his star-metal sword, but made from earthly iron. It’s harder to get off the wall than he expected, and he can hear Wan Shi Tong closing in behind him.

It comes free just as he hears the thud and scrape of the owl’s talons on the stone floor. He whirls to face the monstrous spirit.

“How am I here? Why did you bring me here?!” Sokka demands, thrusting the sword towards the oversized-owl. He doubts the feather-duster would be willing to give him an answer otherwise— luckily that he has the advantage for the moment.

“Wretched fool,” Wan Shi Tong sounds amused and derisive, as though Sokka is a tasty mouse that has run itself straight into his talons. “I would pity you, but you haven’t enough wit to be worth pitying. Let me see if I can help you to understand… since I doubt you’d be able to come to the proper conclusion without aid. You never left the library— your body might have, but your mind has been trapped here since the day you attempted to escape.”

The sword clatters to the floor, and the owl chuckles.

“A promise broken is a promise broken, and I always come to collect my dues.”

* * *

The man had been watching Sokka from across the room all night. A fierce gaze, with eyes almost the burning amber of fire-benders, but more yellow and bright. Like the far off sands of the desert, though there is something far darker in his gaze than those sun-drenched lands.

After a certain point, Sokka just can’t take it anymore, roughly shoving back from his seat. Everything is hot and stifling, and no matter where he looks, he finds himself in the uncanny staring contest with the yellow-eyed man once more. Aang puts a hand on his arm but Sokka shrugs him off.

“I need some air.” Katara clicks her tongue against her teeth in concern, but she and Aang exchange a look and Aang lets him go. He wasn’t lying, though he hadn’t mentioned the man. There’s a funny smell wafting about the place, like old parchment, wood, dust, and feathers, turning the air thick and hard to breathe.

The night air feels good on his face.

“I must admit, Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, I did not expect to find you… here.”

“Neither did I.” Sokka knows that voice, and that voice knows him, along with ten thousand other things. “How are you here, Wan Shi Tong? I thought you could only haunt me in my sleep.”

If the spirit was human, he would have blinked with surprise and moved on. But he’s not, and so, even as he blinks, the man’s head cocks to the side at an unnatural speed and uncomfortable angle.

Sokka takes the opportunity to appraise the man— Wan Shi Tong— again. Now that he’s looking for it, there is a strange resemblance to the owl-spirit. His face is round and pale, not unusual on its own, but his skin is a shade of grey-white pallor that doesn’t belong on a human body. It’s almost like snow— the color screams cold and dispassionate death.

His hair is long and dark, framing his face in the same way as the dark feathers of the owl’s body had framed his cruel face. There is nothing remarkable about him otherwise. He is of average height and average weight. His features are… slightly nicer to look at than average, but aside from his yellow hunter’s eyes, there would be no reason to pick the man out of a crowd.

“I think you’ll find that there are very few places you can go that I am unable to follow. And it has been far too long since I have done any collecting of knowledge myself, rather than relying on my knowledge seekers. I must profess that I am... curious, about the ways the world has changed under this latest Avatar. Too often the world is keen to forget, but there is a struggle to  _ remember _ the knowledge lost in the war that I find most refreshing.”

Sokka snorts and looks up at the sky. There are clouds covering the moon, and Sokka finds himself glad that Yue can't see this exchange. He has the feeling that she would be disappointed in him.

The feeling is nothing new— it’s a familiar ache in his heart and head— but it's especially intense tonight.

* * *

From that point on, it’s not uncommon for Sokka to find Wan Shi Tong hanging around at the strangest times. This time, he looks up from hauling in a net full of fish to find the spirit in the canoe with him.

Wan Shi Tong sits— perhaps  _ perches _ would be a better word, for all that he takes the shape of a man, he never seems to move in man-like ways— in the prow of the canoe. His bare feet are flexed arches, the closest the appendages could ever come to being talons.

“Why can you take the shape of a man, if you don’t mind me asking?” Sokka ventures. It’s strange to sit in silence with a companion so close by, and it would be better to try and talk to the creepy owl-man rather than not talking at all.

“The books and scrolls in the library came from somewhere, and I didn’t always have my knowledge-seekers. And I’ve always been more tolerant of humanity than others. You have this delightful knack for creating more to know in the world and making everything more complicated. There was a time where it wasn’t so wearisome to walk among you when humanity was trustworthy. Before you started squabbling amongst each other for petty reasons. When you valued knowledge for knowledge’s sake alone.”

“If you favor humans, as you claim, then why didn’t you step in to help end the war?” He can feel the indignation bubbling under his skin again. Wan Shi Tong’s library could have had the power to end the war all on its own, with all the lost and hidden knowledge it contained. How could the owl claim to love humanity while denying them aid in their darkest hour?

“Stupid boy!” Sokka has the distinct impression that if the spirit had been in the shape of an owl, he would have been buffeted over the head with giant wings, and possibly bitten in half for his impertinent question. Since Wang Shi Tong can do neither of those things in his current form, the owl has to settle for carving his face into a rictus snarl and verbally berating Sokka.

“Have you ever had a thought in your head?! Once knowledge is out in the world, it cannot be reclaimed, recaptured— erased. It is known and will be known until it is considered unimportant enough to forget again. If I favor humans, why would I allow my knowledge to be used to harm people?”

“But the Fire Nation was evil—” Sokka starts to argue before Wan Shi Tong glares at him. Sokka shuts up. Wan Shi Tong holds his soul in a way that he doesn’t fully understand, and he’s not a foolish little boy anymore, no matter what Wan Shi Tong may think.

“Did you listen to a word I said? I have no desire for the knowledge I guard to be used for harm— and it doesn’t matter who gets that knowledge. Useful knowledge spreads like a wildfire— a fire you know all too well.” The failed invasion. That has to be what Wan Shi Tong is talking about. Sokka winces.

Though nobody was killed that day, there were plenty of deep scars left on the invading force. The Boulder was beaten badly in prison, and when he was finally set free, there was no way he’d be able to return to fighting in the ring, It shifted the destinies of all involved profoundly, and Sokka can’t help but wonder if Aang would have been able to take down the Fire Lord on that day, even if they hadn’t invaded. If it all would have lined up into a gift from the universe that would have allowed things to go smoothly without the help of the Lion-Turtle.

He doesn’t say anything, and Wan Shi Tong settles back into a more traditional sitting position. Sokka wordlessly holds up a piece of fish and offers it to Wan Shi Tong.

“I have no need to eat in this body or any other, but your apology is appreciated.” 

The way he eats is unsettling— owls devour their prey whole, and even as a man, Wang Shi Tong does the same. His jaw opens up a little too wide, and the fish slides down his gullet a little too easily. Though the piece is big enough that Sokka can watch the outline as it disappears down his throat, Wan Shi Tong doesn’t appear to be uncomfortable.

Nothing else is said, until Wan Shi Tong disappears back the way he came, wordlessly, soundlessly. Nothing else needs to be said. Sokka finds himself thinking all the same.

* * *

“You don’t have to add ‘of the Southern Water tribe’ every time you say my name,” Wan Shi Tong cocks his feathery head and blinks, first the inner eyelid, and then the upper one.

It doesn’t unsettle Sokka as much as it used to.

“I suppose I will not do so then.” Wan Shi Tong shuffles his wings and Sokka sighs.

“You can still do it if you  _ want _ . I was just letting you know you didn’t  _ have  _ to. I don’t mind,” he elaborates. During his time asleep, it’s more and more common for him to find himself in the library, and if he has to be here, the atmosphere might feel a little lighter if Wan Shi Tong wasn’t so formal all the time.

“I see. I think that it might be… an interesting experiment, to drop the formalities.  _ Sokka _ .”

Sokka ducks his head down into a book and smiles to himself. He’ll lighten up Wan Shi Tong if it’s the last thing he does— which it just might be if he’s not careful about this little project.

* * *

“You will be among the forgotten, you know.” 

“If you keep dropping in on me like this, I am going to have to give you a nickname. I can’t keep calling you Wan Shi Tong, it gets to be too much of a mouthful,” Sokka warns, without looking up from the scrolls littering his desk. He has letters to write— there’s a trade agreement that needs formalizing— and in general, it’s a bad time for a visit. Hence the teasing. He can see Wan Shi Tong shudder out of the corner of his eye, and he grins.

Then the spirit’s words sink in, and he frowns. “What do you mean, among the forgotten?”

Wan Shi Tong shuffles his shoulders and Sokka gets the feeling that it would be a feather-ruffle in his owl-shape. It’s something he only does when he’s trying to figure out what to say, when he’s putting his thoughts in order— if it was anyone else, Sokka would have said it was a nervous tick. He’s not quite bold enough to call it a nervous tick yet. At least not to Wan Shi Tong’s face.

“I mean that I have seen what the passage of time does to the legacy of men such as you, and you shouldn’t be surprised if the world forgets you. They will remember your name for years, that’s certain, but when the names of your friends start to disappear from the records, yours will be the first to go.” Sokka’s heart is lodged in his throat.

Wan Shi Tong looks guilty, and his hand pats Sokka’s shoulder like he’s not sure what he’s doing.

“What do you mean?” he repeats, though he  _ knows _ what Wan Shi Tong means. He knows it in the darkness of his mind at night before he finds the library, he knows it in the quiet moments standing behind Aang or Zuko as they make an announcement, and he knows it as Yue’s sacrifice passes into legend.

Wan Shi Tong looks regretful. Not an expression Sokka’s seen on his face before, and one that he hopes he won’t see again. Sokka raises his hand and interrupts before Wan Shi Tong can continue to speak.

The spirit frowns but graciously allows it.

“The others— will they be remembered?” Wan Shi Tong nods slowly. “Then that’s all I need to hear. If nothing else, they can be my legacy. I’ll take my place among the forgotten if that’s the price I need to pay for the world to keep turning.”

* * *

When he wakes, Sokka knows that it is time.

He has known that the time was approaching for a while, ever since his bones began to creak and crack like old parchment pressed flat, but today he  _ knows _ , with the special kind of knowing that Aang probably has on a regular basis.

Sokka has found himself more envious of that knowing, as the years have gone by. He’s not sure whether it’s Wan Shi Tong’s more-or-less constant presence that drives him to want knowledge and knowing or a wish that he could have half the certainty in life that Aang does. Probably a mix of the two.

He’d rented a boat out to the Earth Kingdom after he’d said his goodbyes to Aang and Katara. His sister had held him as tightly as she could— even if he hadn’t told her exactly what was happening, she knew this would be the last time they saw each other. Aang knew too, but there was an echo of a deeper knowledge in the lines that had etched their way into his face over the years, an echo that told Sokka that Aang knew where his destination would be.

He pays the innkeeper with the rest of the money he’d brought with him. The man seems hesitant to accept the pay— no doubt wondering if it was a trick of some sorts— but Sokka brushes off his concerns, and there must be something of the day ahead in his eyes because there is no more hesitation after that.

The sun feels good on his face when he leaves the building. It’s blindingly bright and leaves spots in his vision, but he’ll appreciate it while it’s around. This is the last time he’ll be seeing it after all.

Wang Shi Tong insists that direct sunlight would damage his precious books and scrolls, and Sokka isn’t exactly in a place to argue with him, since he knows next to nothing about bookkeeping and preservation.

Maybe that will change.

There will certainly be time for him to learn.

He takes a deep breath of the desert air. There’s still the faintest cool to it, though that is swiftly changing with the heat of the sun. The ice of the poles is a faraway dream already, one that Sokka already misses, though he’s sure that ache will fade with time. And if nothing else, he can immerse himself in words that will remind him of his childhood. Wan Shi Tong would help him find the right texts, no doubt.

Sokka looks out over the endless waves of the desert dunes and begins his walk home.

**Author's Note:**

> Look I don't know what to say for myself, except this is a Cursed Ship, please do not judge me. The fic was also supposed to be a joke, and then I got more serious with it than I wanted and if I didn't just finish it and hit post, i was going to spend Actual Time writing a slowburn Wan Shi Tong/Sokka fic. (The ship name is Wang Shokka fyi).


End file.
